Sing, sing a song, and make it simple to last your whole life long

 The adolescence is becoming conspicuous. 

I look at my children and they do not look like little kids anymore. Josie, who will be 11 in three weeks, keeps getting taller and her legs are now as long as mine, even though I'm still a few inches taller. I have a longer torso and shorter legs, and she has a shorter torso and longer legs. I have no doubt she will surpass me soon in all departments.

Zeke will be 13 next month. He is gaining height more slowly than Josie is, but he's suddenly ... thicker. Not fat. Just muscular and more substantial. He has his dad's physique, which is a good thing. Jason is incredibly strong and fit, and Zeke has inherited those same characteristics. 

Zeke is still a couple of inches taller than Josie, though it doesn't look like it in this picture.

It reminds me of when he was first born and the doctor was checking his reflexes and doing all the little tests that are done on newborn babies. One of them entails pushing on the bottom of the baby's foot to see if the baby pushes back. Zeke, who had strong, muscular little legs right out of the womb, pushed back so hard that the doctor's eyes widened and he started to laugh. 

"Ok, then!" He chuckled. 

They're funny and smart-ass-y and teenager-y. And they vacillate between muttering at me under their breath and snuggling up to me and asking for hugs and cuddles. 

I'm so annoying. SO ANNOYING, MOM! GOD!! COULD YOU STOP???

And then, Moooommmy! Guess what time it is??? It's huggy time!! I love you, Mommy!

It makes me laugh while also giving me whiplash. 

One vestige of young childhood that they have both abandoned is my singing. I sang them to sleep until they were about 8. They would ask for it every night and make requests. When they were sad, they would ask for a song to comfort them and make them feel better. Some of my fondest, sweetest memories are of rocking them in the rocker as babies, singing to them as I gently traced my fingers over their faces until they fell asleep.

But they don't ask for it anymore. Sometimes when Josie is having a hard day and is cuddled up to me, I'll ask her if she wants a song, but she says no. I understand, but it makes me wistful.

This past weekend the kids stayed with Jason while I got some alone time. I went out on Saturday night and then came home and went to sleep by about 11. 

My phone rang at 12:15 a.m. I knew it was Zeke because his ring-tone is Stewie from Family Guy saying, "Mom..Mom..Mom..Mommy...Mommy...Mama...Maaa." 

I answered the phone, only half awake.

"Zeke? Are you ok?"

He sounded whimper-y.

"What's wrong honey? Did something happen?"

"No, I'm ok. Mama, will you sing to me? Will you sing me to sleep?"

"Oh! Sure. Is there something you want to hear?"

"It doesn't matter. Anything."

So I started to sing Angel Band. But I still wasn't really awake so I kept messing up the tune and forgetting the lyrics. I would try to think hard but my brain wasn't working so I would stop and be quiet for a few seconds while I tried to remember what I was doing. Then I would try again, but I kept confusing it with a different song, so I was half singing Angel Band and half singing Patsy Cline's Walkin' After Midnight, but I still wasn't awake or thinking clearly so I would have to stop and try to find the song in my memory. If I had been more coherent, I would have laughed.

We both lay there listening to each other breathe. I would occasionally whisper, shhhh. 

Finally he whispered, Mama.

I'm here, I whispered back.

I'm going to go to sleep now...

OK, honey. Good night.

G'night, mama. I love you.

I love you too, baby.

And then I fell back to sleep with my heart full.